


A Dude Walks Into the Closet of a Bar

by DMisforDaddyMaster



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: I swear, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Masturbation, Transgender Male Character, but like not in a bad way, trans!Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMisforDaddyMaster/pseuds/DMisforDaddyMaster
Summary: Darryl's unforgivingly attractive. Henry's stressed about it.
Relationships: Henry Oak/Darryl Wilson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 120





	A Dude Walks Into the Closet of a Bar

If this were any other night, Henry would be participating in the raucous laughter happening at the table. A few locals had joined in on their drinking night after spotting these four strangers waltz into their bar, and the chatter was loud and hard to keep track of. Currently, though, Henry is gnawing and tonguing at the straw in his mouth, watching Darryl down the rest of a pint of beer while Glenn cheers him on.

Now, it may be the alcohol talking (specifically, gnomish ale) and it may be the fact that it’s been months since he’s seen his wife, or gotten off at  _ all _ , but Henry’s hot under the collar for Darryl and it’s driving him up the wall. This isn’t a new realization, quite the opposite, really—Henry’s harbored some form of feelings for Darryl since meeting him when introducing his kids to the soccer team. That’s only grown since Henry’s been in close proximity with him, heck, even  _ kissed  _ him multiple times.

Darryl looks completely relaxed, an obvious side effect of the alcohol. He’s animatedly telling a story to their newfound friends, gesturing wildly with one of his arms, the muscle in his bicep fluttering as he waves his hand. Henry shifts in his seat and clears his throat, pushing himself out of the table before standing up.

“I’m, uh, I’m going to go get us some more drinks,” he babbles lamely, but everybody is too drunk to care past  _ more drinks _ , cheers drowning out any other random words that spill from his mouth. 

Henry has no idea where he’s going, except he knows he needs to find the closest open room. He settles for what seems to function as a coat closet when it’s not the Faerun equivalent of summer, and is now blissfully, conveniently, empty. It takes him a minute to grab his phone and dial Mercedes (even though she’s on speed dial, curse his alcohol-addled brain).

“Hi, baby, is everything okay?” she answers, a mild panic in her voice.

“Mercedes,” he sighs, “mi amor, I’m at a crossroads.”

“Literally? I hope not, you sound drunk.”

“No. Just.” He scrubs his free hand over his face, thunks his head back on the wooden wall. “There’s a dad. Darryl, you know him. And I am...so unbelievably turned on by him.”

“Oh,  _ baby _ ,” Mercedes coos, “Where are you right now?”

“Some...closet. In the bar. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just didn’t want to, fuck—I’m obviously not thinking clearly.”

There’s a beat, and then, “Well, what excites you about him?”

And, Henry knows that he shouldn’t. Not a few yards away, there’s a whole bar of people that could catch him with his hand in his pants. They’ve talked about this kind of public thing, tried it out on weekends where the boys are at Mercedes’ parent’s house—Henry is glad he wore underwear today, soaked just  _ thinking _ about it, and he swears under his breath.

“He’s  _ huge.  _ Physically. But he’s so gentle, I—” he slides a hand into his shorts, tries not to think about the implications, “He tries so hard to be good, for us, for  _ me _ …”

There’s some shifting on her end, and the thought of her getting off on this too, settling down on their bed, touching herself to the  _ idea  _ of him getting fucked is enough to spur him on, fingers slip-sliding around his dick at a less-than-leisurely pace.

“What would you let him do to you, hm? I haven’t heard you like this in quite some time.”

A laugh bubbles up and out of his throat, “‘s weird, babe, I can’t decide if I want to top him or have him fuck,  _ shit _ , fuck me into next week.”

“I bet you’d look real pretty in his lap,” she murmurs, voice trailing into a low, pleased hum, and his mind wanders to one of the back seats of the Odyssey. Holding Darryl’s face in his hands, watching him fall apart under mountains of praise. Darryl’s strong hands would dig into his hips,  _ bruise _ possibly, as Henry fucks onto his cock, partially aided by Darryl’s guidance. He must say some of this out loud, in much less eloquent words, because Mercedes gasps on the other end—and he is much closer to coming than he’d like to admit.

“He’s out there, you know. Probably thinking about it just as much, too. I bet he’d cover your mouth with one of those strong hands, keep you nice and quiet.”

Henry groans, the sound drowned out by what he assumes was another round of shots at the table outside. On the other end of the phone, Mercedes chuckles,  _ curse her _ .

She keeps talking for a few moments, Henry blissfully unaware (but incredibly conscious) of the party going on outside. He’ll have to talk about this with Mercedes when he’s more sober and less riled up,  _ less  _ inclined to finger himself in public because a strong man flexed at him by accident.

“He’d be so eager for you—”

Mercedes’ sentence is cut off by a harsh knock at the door, and Henry does four things simultaneously: jumps, yanks his hand out of his pants, drops his phone, and screams. Uselessly, he stares at the phone on the ground as the knocking continues.

“Henry? Is that you in there?” Darryl calls, and Henry wants to...fuck, he doesn’t know. Cry? Run away? Keep jerking off?

“Y-yeah!” he yells back, grabbing his phone off the ground and tucking it between his shoulder and his ear.

“—is your moment. Drag him in by the shirt and get busy,” he hears from Mercedes.

“Are you alright? You sound like you’re in trouble.”

“Nope! Peachy keen in here!”

“He’s going to walk in, baby, see you with a hand on your dick and take you right there,” Mercedes continues, and it feels like Henry’s whole body throbs.

“Are you sure? I’m coming in!”

Henry nearly screams for a second time as a drunken Darryl pulls the door open, squinting against the dark of the closet. Henry, in his brilliance, remembers that his pants are undone and much lower than they should be, and tugs them up with his free hand.

“Dark in here,” Darryl grumbles, “why’re you in this closet anyway?”

“ _ If you don’t ask I will Henry I swear,” _ Mercedes hisses in his ear.

“Oh, just. Called my wife.”

“That’s nice. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We were all having fun and I got scared you were missing out.” The words, although slurred together and a bit louder than they need to be, seem to be coming from a place of genuine emotion.

“Oh my goodness you were so right,” Mercedes says, “he’s so sweet. I bet he’d take such good care of you, baby.”

“So!” Henry exclaims, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You sure you don’t need a hand with anything?”

Henry shouts “Nope!” as Mercedes says “Yes!”, and Henry is incredibly glad she didn’t accidentally end up on speaker during this whole fiasco. 

Glenn, who seems to pop out of nowhere, slaps a hand on Darryl’s shoulder and starts dragging him back towards the drinks. “Dude, come on! Sven just challenged us to a chugging contest and I don’t wanna watch Ron win again.”

“Glenn, but—Henry—” Darryl protests, and if Henry once knew how to breathe, he doesn’t recall.

“Save it for the bedroom, man, I don’t know what y’all get up to.”

As they walk away, Glenn casts a glance back at Henry, and winks at him. Henry, overwhelmed, can't muster a response other than grabbing the doorknob and slamming it shut again.

"Henry, sweetie," Mercedes says finally, "you know I support you in whatever you choose to do. But, I want you to get back out there, slam a shot or two, and climb that man like a tree."

Henry swallows a moan, blinking against the dark of the room to try to adjust. The best response he can come up with is, "He's shorter than me."

" _ Dios mio,  _ you're trying to kill me. Get out there! I love you!"

"I love you too," Henry mumbles, vaguely registering the kissing noise as he hangs up the phone.

After finding the bathroom and washing his hands, he slides back into the group as they stand around a table with shots on it, and Darryl rests a hand on the small of Henry's back.

"You alright, bud? I was worried about you." Darryl leans close to his ear to say this, and Henry has to take a shuddering breath to calm himself down.

"I'm great, thanks for looking out. How do we play this game?"

By the time they stumble up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, Henry is significantly drunker. Him and the dads had, somehow, won the shots game—Henry had slammed the winning shot, if only to see Darryl's face light up when he did. Now, the two of them have an arm wrapped around each other as they clamber into their room, and when Henry stumbles, Darryl grabs his elbow to steady him. Darryl's close, right in his personal space, and Henry unabashedly lets himself glance down at his lips. Fuck it, right?

"Is there anything I could do for you?" Darryl asks, and Henry's heart rises in his throat.

"Could you kiss me?" he squeaks out, and Darryl looks just as flustered as he feels, blatantly staring at his mouth as he finishes the statement.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, God yes," Henry breathes, and Darryl surges forward to kiss him, sloppy and rough.

-

When Henry wakes up, his face is squished against Darryl’s chest. He’s surprisingly not very hungover—the room spins a little at the edges when he moves, and his mouth is dry. Maybe they counter for hangovers in the making of their alcohol, he doesn’t really know how the Forgotten Realms function like that. He rolls over to the side of the bed, half hanging off as he rummages through the pile of clothes for his phone. Darryl groans and stretches on the bed behind him, and Henry smiles to himself as he checks his texts.

There’s two, from Mercedes.  _ How did it go? _ followed by a simple  _?????? _ that makes him chuckle. He squirms back over to Darryl, who’s got a forearm slung over his eyes, and drops a kiss onto the side of his chest.

“How you feeling, big guy?”

Darryl huffs, but smiles. “Not too terrible.”

Henry pops open his camera, and tries not to burst out laughing. He’s a proper mess, with his hair sticking out randomly, but his neck is littered in a combination of beard scratch marks and very obvious hickeys. Darryl raises his head to look down at him, and blushes.

“Oh my God. Holy shit, I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry—”

“No, no, it’s totally fine,” he laughs, and raises his phone, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but can I send Mercedes a picture?”

Darryl, already flustered beyond comprehension, sputters over his words to agree and tries to hide by covering his face with his hands. Henry snaps the picture and sends it off without a caption, and then clambers onto his knees, hovering over Darryl’s head.

“Hey, look at me?” he mumbles, grabbing Darryl’s hands and pulling them off his eyes, “This was, in no way, shape, or form, a mistake for me. Do you feel the same?”

Darryl nods, and Henry continues. “Now, we’ll have to talk about this when we have more time. But, right now, we probably have a few minutes to kill before we have to be up and ready to continue on. And I don’t know about you, but I need to shower. Would you care to join me?”

Henry bites his bottom lip as he watches Darryl flick between both of his eyes, clearly searching for something. Maybe some kind of rejection, a tell that Henry is kidding, and he  _ doesn’t _ want to fool around in the shower with him, that the sex last night was terrible and this was all an awful misunderstanding. And Henry makes sure he doesn’t find it, opting to press a quick kiss to his lips before crawling out of the bed. It’s probably the least sexy thing ever, to see a grown man nearly trip out of the bed and over the clothes on the floor, but when Henry looks back at Darryl he’s blatantly checking him out, so he considers it a win.

“Come on, before Ron uses up all the hot water in a five mile radius.”


End file.
